


Your Deepest Dream

by ScribblesInTheMargins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 18OI AU Week 2020 (Yuri!!! on Ice), 18OI AU Week 2020: Day 3, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Cursed Object, Found Family, Gen, Supernatural Elements, lost family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/pseuds/ScribblesInTheMargins
Summary: After the Grand Prix Final, the youngest gold medalist ever only wants to not be alone.  Unfortuantly, everyone is too busy for him.Note: This diverges from Canon at the point where Yuri should have gotten help finding Otabek after the GPF
Relationships: Lilia Baranovskaya & Yuri Plisetsky, Yakov Feltsman & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 16
Kudos: 32
Collections: 18OI AU Week 2020





	Your Deepest Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tutti_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tutti_writes/gifts).



> This is Day three of the 18+ on ice Discord's AU event. [Server Link](https://discord.gg/TYMxcAB)
> 
> If you're new to my writing, I hope you like these little stories.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always loved

Standing on the podium for the Grand Prix Final with gold around his neck proved his senior debut was a success -- no, more than a success. His debut was something for the record books. He held the world record for a short program. That didn't put a smile on his face, a million things running through his head.

Somehow he made it through the press conference after the medal ceremony, letting Yakov and Lilia handle nearly all the questions. He didn't know where anyone was. No one was posting anything on social media -- not that they would. All the accounts that Yuri knew were the most public accounts and no skater was going to put their after competition plans there. It didn't matter. He shoved his gold medal into his suitcase, ignoring the massive pile of stuffed animals and flowers. Everything that had been thrown onto the ice had been collected and was now in his room -- much of it still in big trash bags.

Maybe tonight he'd go through it, see what he was keeping and what was getting donated. He was hungry though, so he left the room to find Yakov and Lilia. They'd said they were grabbing a drink before dinner. He didn't bother getting dressed in any specific way, just throwing on black jeans and a T-shirt. He almost didn't grab his coat, but if Yakov and Lilia were going someplace outside the hotel, he didn't want to miss a free meal.

When he reached the lobby bar, Yakov and Lilia were sitting close -- he didn't know who they thought they were fooling. It didn't matter, he climbed onto the stool next to them and before the bartender could say anything about him being there, he leaned back against the bar sighing at them. They were several drinks into the night, he already knew from how many drinks they had had that they weren't going to be doing anything about dinner. He'd be on his own and just expected to order room service. He was buzzing though, the adrenaline still in his body from having won today. He needed to say something, but everything was so wrong. He had won, why was he this … alone?

He'd always been alone though. He sighed, the sound hollow as he looked to Lilia and Yakov, trying to get their attention, he huffed, "I don't want to do my exhibition." He knew that would get them to notice.

They didn't even put the champaign down as Yakov scolded, "Yuri!"

He groaned, not even bothering to sit up, "Uggg, no, I don't wanna skate that program."

Now Lilia straightened up, annoyance in her look. "If you're going to whine about your free program performance, then do it in your own room." She saw right through him, knowing he was disappointed with his performance in the free. 

As she continued to talk about how he'd been skating the Angel of the Fire Festival, he sighed again. She hadn't even put down her phone. He knew that she was busy, and a glance at her screen proved she was reacting to positive articles about him -- his reputation needed the managing. She wasn't paying attention to him though.

Even as he argued, he knew this was a lost cause. They did their jobs for him as was proven by his debut, but while there were moments that were warm … he knew what they weren't. They weren't his family. They weren't his friends. They were his coach ad his choreographer that had taken him in and made all of this possible -- but that's all they were. He was a favorite student, but no more.

Then he saw a movement towards the hotel door. Without excusing himself, he jumped off the stool, grabbing his jacket as he ran after the man that was leaving. 

"Oi! Otabek!" As soon as the figure turned, Yuri was asking, "You going somewhere?" Yuri tried not to seem too excited as Otabek said he was going to a club to see a DJ friend of his. Otabek was his friend -- at least he said that he was his friend. "Let me come too!" This was exactly what he needed, something to get his mind off of everything and he could do it with a friend!

When he was asked how old he was, Yuri paused. Otabek damn well knew how old he was. Everyone knew how old he was. His age was in every article about the Grand Prix Final and had been announced over the venue's sound system. "I'm fifteen." Otabek had to know that though. "I'll be sixteen in March!" It wasn't even 3 years between them. Sure, Otabek was eighteen now, but he had only just turned eighteen.

When he was left there, standing in the street watching as Otabek sped off on his motorcycle with some excuse about not being able to bring him, Yuri faced a crossroads. He could try to run around to whatever clubs he could find and see if he could track down Otabek or anyone that knew Otabek … or he could go back up to his room.

He pulled his jacket up tighter. He had thought they were friends. Friends didn't leave you like that. He wasn't going to cry. He turned, running back to the hotel and past his screaming fans. He didn't want to talk to anyone -- not that anyone wanted to talk to him.

He was back in his room, looking at his phone. Now he was seeing where people were. Almost every other skater was posting about being out places -- all of which were eighteen and up. Victor and Yuuri weren't posting, but he knew what those two were doing. With a sigh, he shook his head. It was much too late to call his Deda -- and the man had already congratulated him on his win. He didn't want to be congratulated. He wanted to be normal. What did normal fifteen-year-olds do? He grabbed his switch, considering turning it on, but then he just tossed it back to his bag. All he would be doing would be playing alone.

He looked at the flowers, most of the flowers had gone to other places already, he only had room for so many here. He picked up the flower crown, placing it back over his head as he looked at himself in the mirror. It looked wrong. In normal clothes, he didn't look like a champion ice skater. Taking it off, he set the crown on the desk -- and that's when he noticed it. Something was tied to the inside, almost hidden by the yellow roses.

It barely took a minute to untie it. There was a ring made of black metal with a note attached. It looked expensive and old. His eyes narrowed, it was probably something that shouldn't have been thrown on the ice, but it wasn't as if he could get it back to whoever originally owned it. The note gave no indication of who it was from, simply saying 

_ To find your deepest dream _

_ Realize what you have and how you seem _

_ If you fail this you shall see _

_ You'll never know what you need. _

It wasn't even a good poem and made no sense. He gripped the note, ripping it off the ring as he let himself look at the intricate carving on the band. He didn't know what metal it was, and the dark color didn't appear to be tarnish. He tried rubbing at it with his thumb, but the color stayed. It didn't look gold, and he hated how that made him feel jealous. He knew the bands Yuuri and Victor had weren't a sign of their friendship, or coach and student bond, or whatever bullshit they had spouted while Yuri had been too shocked to hear. A friendship would be nice -- a friendship that didn't leave him alone on a night when he was all messed up inside.

Deepest dream? That was crap. He had his deepest dream. He had a gold medal from his first Grand Prix final as a senior in his bag and he could shove it on the wall next to his two from his junior years. The second-place finishes at Skate Canada and Rostelecom didn't matter. He had won gold when it had counted. He had everything he dreamt of. 

He hated how alone he was. The room full of flowers and stuffed animals and with people still screaming his name in the streets and he couldn't think of a time he had felt more alone. This was the first competition where he had been able to see the city. From the back of Otabek's motorcycle, he had experienced things and it had been amazing. It wasn't now though. Those memories were now tinged with pain from how he was alone tonight.

That Mila was out clubbing wasn't what hurt the most. His mind kept going back to when they had all been coming off the ice with their medals around their neck and fucking JJ Leroy was greeted by his parents with his dad hugging him and telling him how proud he was. JJ had a 3rd. Yuri had a 1st. Even Katsuki with his 2nd had his sister there. Katsuki had a lot of things that Yuri didn't have though.

Yuri's time in Hatsetsu had been painful in so many ways, but in others, it had been absolutely wonderful. Yuuri's parents had not even batted an eye at a surly fifteen-year-old Russian showing up at their doorstep. They had taken him in, fed him, and more importantly treated him like he belonged. No, it had even been more than that.

He closed his eyes, curling up on the bed as he clutched the ring in his palm. He knew what dreamed of. He knew what he had and how he seemed. He seemed like he didn't care and was full of himself. He had to be though. Alone in his hotel room, the heady scent of flowers filling the air, Yuri fell asleep with the ring clutched in his hand.

* * *

Yuri woke up to the sun streaming through the window, which was odd. He could have sworn he had pulled the blackout blinds before going to bed. Rolling over, he opened his eyes and suddenly he was fully awake. He sat up in bed, staring at the strange window with the Navy blue curtains. His brow furrowing, he looked around this room -- it was not his hotel room.

He was in a small bed that was covered in what seemed to be a homemade quilt. There was a computer desk with a PC and some books. There was a bookcase, but then he saw something he couldn't even begin to explain. He slipped out of bed, his bare feet on the rug that covered the hardwood floor. There were pictures on the bookshelf. There were impossible pictures on the bookshelf. He touched one of the frames, looking at it. This was impossible. There was a picture of him wearing a soccer uniform and holding the black and white ball in his hands. Next to him is a man with light brown hair and blue eyes. On his other side, there was a woman with long blonde hair and green eyes. He knew her. He hadn't seen her in months, but he recognized his own mother. HIm … he wished he didn't recognize that man.

He set the picture back down. This couldn't be happening. This was impossible. He turned and walked to the bedroom door, then he paused. His fingers reached out to the doorframe, touching the marks on the door frame and seeing the pencil next to them. Every year his height was marked on that door frame, and he remembered that. He remembered his height being marked -- the last year he remembered his mother bothering though was when he was six. This list didn't stop, the mark for fifteen at the top. This was his room. This was impossible.

Opening the door, Yuri walked outside into the hallway. He remembered this, not exactly, some things were changed, but he remembered some of it. The wedding picture was there. The rug was different. Some pictures were newer, but he knew where he was going. He walked past the living room and to the kitchen. He had vague memories of this from when he was little. His mother was standing at the stove stirring something in a pot.

When she turned to look at him, Yuri's heart was breaking. She looked so happy. The stress wasn't there. The worry wasn't there. She just smiled, as beautiful as he had ever seen her. "Oh, my precious, you're awake. Set the table before everyone else gets here."

Stunned, Yuri went to the cupboard where some part of his brain knew the dishes were. He pulled out three before moving to the table to place them down before pausing. He didn't remember this table. He didn't remember six chairs.

Before he could say anything, he heard laughter and running. The sounds of bare feet on carpet thumping through the house as a male voice called out, "Girls! Your brother is still sleeping, be quiet."

He found himself standing there, just mouthing the word 'brother' to himself. He didn't know what to do as two girls ran out, both still in Pajamas. They looked like him. He couldn't stop staring as he just watches these girls that looked so much like him.

He jerked as suddenly a hand was on his forehead, but it was just his mother touching his forehead with the inside of her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Shush. You don't seem right so I'm making sure you're not sick. Did you stay up all night playing video games again?" Assured that he wasn't ill, she gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Now get plates for your sisters, we're having breakfast.before you have to go off to soccer practice."

In a daze, he grabbed two more plates. The girls were giggling over something, but then everything settled down as his father walked in. He'd never seen the man -- not in person. He'd seen pictures. No, that wasn't true. He had been alive at the funeral. There were pictures of him there, barely a year old and being held constantly. He didn't remember him though.

He just stood there, stunned as the man walked up to him and ruffled his hair, "I can drop you off at the field on my way into work. I need to pick up something, but I promise, I will be back in plenty of time for the movie."

Yuri sat, watching everyone as they laughed and talked as if this were the most normal thing in the world. A full breakfast was set out on the table -- it looked like something from a TV show. He'd never had this. 

As breakfast went on, he remembered more and more. Sasha and Masha were his sisters. They were ten and eight. They were complete terrors, but he loved them. He remembered school and playing on a local soccer team. Sometimes in the winter, they'd go skating, but he hadn't been that great at hockey. He played video games. He had friends at school. His dad worked as an accountant, and his mom stayed home with them. They were talking about getting a dog … it was all coming back to him.

By the end of Breakfast, everything else seemed like nothing more than a dream. He wasn't a figure skater, let alone a nationally ranked one. He was barely good enough to be on the soccer team, but it was just for fun. He was good at video games, but he sucked at math.

This was everything that he ever really wanted.

As he was helping clear away the dishes, someone was at the doot. "Sweetie, can you get the door, it's your Deda." His mother was too busy washing dishes while the girls dried them to get it herself.

"No problem." He walked to the front door, opening it to see his grandfather and immediately giving the man a hug.

"Oh look at you, you're getting so tall my Yurouchka."

.

..

…

"Yura!"

..

..

.

His grandfather looked worried, "Yurouchka? Are you feeling … Anya! Something is wrong with Yura!"

He heard his mother running in, worry clear in her voice as she called out his name and he felt himself falling.

.

..

…

"Yura!"

…

..

.

He hit the floor, his mother's hands on his face as she cried his name.

.

..

…

"Yura!"

Searing pain ripped through his hand as he gasped for breath. A man was over him and he was in a hotel room. Immediately he threw his arms up, "Get away from me! Who are you!"

Blood was running from his hand, trailing down his arms as Yuri saw something covered in blood in the man's hand. A woman stood behind him, fear and worry clear on her strict features.

Then he realized where he was and who these people were, "Yakov? Lilia? But …"

"Where did you get this?" A blood-covered ring was held up by Yakov, and Yuri felt the blood rush from his head.

"Yura?" This time Lilia spoke, sitting down on the bed next to him as she reached for his hand.

Somehow Yuri managed to tell them about finding the ring and falling asleep with it. His hand still burned from where Yakov had removed the band from his palm. He sat there shocked as they both read the note.

_ To find your deepest dream _

_ Realize what you have and how you seem _

_ If you fail this you shall see _

_ You'll never know what you need. _

"It makes no sense." Yakov had put the bloodied ring into a bag. "Why would someone give Yura a cursed object like that?"

"People can be cruel, Yasha." Lilia turned to Yuri, his hands in hers as she ignored the blood to try and meet his eyes. "What did you dream, child?"

He shook his head, not willing to tell.

"Please tell me. We can't help if we don't know."

"My father was alive. My mother … I had two sisters. I played soccer, poorly. It was … normal." He swallowed, it had been more than normal. He had had a family and he had been loved.

Realization washed over Lilia's face as she exchanged a look with Yakov. "I'm so sorry." She was. Her dreams had never been of something so normal, or maybe they had been and fate had just had other ideas for her.

"It's not your problem. The Grand Prix Series is over. I'll be moving back into the dorms."

Now Lilia's voice was soft, "Is that what you think?" She heard the pain. Yuri was in no condition to hide it. "We might not be your family, but I promise, you have a place with us." She leaned in, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead before he collapsed into her crying.

She'd been foolish. No, she and Yakov had both been foolish. If the boy did not realize how precious he was, that was on them -- and something she would strive to fix. She just didn't know if it would be enough. He'd been shown what he truly wanted, and who could blame the boy for his wish to be his true family. All she could do though was hold him as he cried, inconsolable as the realization that it had not been real washed over him.

Tomorrow, he would go on to skate his exhibition with the eyes of a solder, but tonight, tonight he cried like the little lost child he was.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you are looking for me on Social Media:
> 
> Twitter = <https://twitter.com/ScribblesITM>
> 
> Tumbr = <https://scribblesinthemargins.tumblr.com/>


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